Katniss heads home to get dressed and head out for the day. She looks good. Happier than I'd expect her to let on. I wouldn't have been at all surprised to wake up to her being surly and cold again; I'd actually braced for it in some ways. I get the distinct impression that she's looking at our situation differently as we gain some distance from it, just in terms of time and moving on. I'd like to know what's going on in her head, but I know better than to pry. She'll tell me when, and if, she decides she wants me to know. I have more than enough to process right now, and my brain feels short-circuited as it is. I notice that when I pull my own clothes on and kiss the top of her head before she leaves, my hands are shaking. It's amazing how pent-up I am considering I just got what I needed less than 24 hours ago. I blush thinking of Haymitch. I'll have to reassure him, at least, about Katniss. Let him know she's doing okay. I'm not really looking forward to doing that, because then comes the part about WHY she's doing okay, and I'm sure his big obnoxious mouth will have something to say about that. Really, I think, is it SUCH a big surprise? It's not like we were going to be chaste forever, even individually. Technically we're both adults now, and we're certainly raising ourselves at this point. There aren't even many alternative options when it comes to romance, since the district got bombed. Not that I'd be looking. I can't look with Katniss around. It's become ingrained after years of single-minded obsession. I wonder how the hell I'm going to get through the day with her voice echoing in my head. I'm thunderstruck that I raised that kind of reaction from her. She's right; I'd come to see her as completely sexually unavailable. This changes everything. Shit, I think, I hope we didn't fuck it up. I don't want her to move away from me because she bugs out over the intimacy. I mean, it has to be some kind of compliment, someone wanting you so much, right? "You're overthinking this," I say to myself aloud, sitting on the bed. I'm hungry, I realize suddenly. By the time I get downstairs and begin pulling out bread and butter for breakfast, she's gone off to run her errands. I actually find that I need some space to try to sort things out inside my head alone. I'm a little angry with myself that I let it get so far. You hardly pressed yourself on her!...my head tells me. That's true. In that way, Katniss turns out to be sexually predictable: she wants to be in charge of things, the same way she takes control of everything else. And her will is enormous, whatever it's pointed at. Coming up against Katniss usually means you'll either get ignored or steamrolled.
I eat slowly. The day is bright and sunny outside, but it'll be cold. I want to go take a walk. I shrug on a warmer coat and head out. I don't lock the door—never do, anymore. No one would come in…there is no one to come in…except the people that already barge in whenever they want. Haymitch. I sigh. I might as well start there, get it over with. I move in that direction and let myself in without knocking, which is disappointing payback since Haymitch is never doing anything besides sleeping off a hangover or trying to give himself one. Now it's the latter. I don't know how he can drink that stuff so early; it can't even be 11 AM. He's supplementing it with an apple he's peeling with his knife at the table, disgusting boots propped up right where he's eating. I don't point this out. Haymitch, like Katniss, does whatever the hell he wants. He looks up and smirks. "Loverboy," he croons. "How's your morning?" "Alright, actually," I answer.
"I bet," he says. "What was that, exactly?" It would be dumb to pretend I don't know what he means, but I stall.
"What was what?" I ask, trying to sound innocent.
"That." He says, pointing at my neck. I start. My neck? I glance into the window, since there's not a mirror. I can just barely make out the round redness of bite marks along the side and down. I turn what must be a truly remarkable shade of puce as all the blood in my body rushes up, instead of down, for a change.
"Katniss." I say, trying to recover some shred of dignity.
He laughs. "She's going to chew you up and spit you out," he snorts. The thought of Haymitch thinking about Katniss' sexual skills makes me feel slightly ill, but I realize he's probably just making a natural cognitive leap from how her personality is in any other situation. "I did okay," I say defensively, still scarlet. I don't really want to have this conversation but I say it reflexively.
"Peeta," he says, his eyes getting serious, "Be careful."
"What do you mean?" I ask, my stomach sinking.
"I mean, be careful," he repeats. "She's a little…unpredictable. I know how much you care about her. I think she returns it, personally. But she's still working a lot of things out. Don't expect too much." This is a hard request now, honestly. Haymitch must remember what it's like to be 18 and in love. I know he has my best interests at heart…both of ours…and this is a lot of words from him.
"It was her idea," I tell him.
"That doesn't surprise me at all."
Before I can stop myself, I ask an embarrassing question. "Do you think she loves me, Haymitch? She said she did." I have no parents anymore, no one that could field questions like this, just Haymitch.
"I do," he says, without hesitation, and this makes me feel better. If anyone would know, he would. He takes another swig from his bottle. Haymitch is happy now that the Hob is up and running again; though it's no longer in the same place, of course, and it's no longer anything but a regular market. The new government doesn't regulate the sale of alcohol to those over legal age, and the new Peacekeepers are happy to ignore him as long as he's not making a disturbance. Ripper made it out and she keeps him in good supply. Haymitch, I know, will never not need his white liquor, even if this makes me feel sad. There's been too much. I understand, even if I don't condone it. We're a fraternity of sorts, in the Victor's Village. A lot of days I find myself missing the presence of the other Victors. Finnick. Johanna, even, who has gone back to her district. Last I heard, she was doing much better. She promised to come visit once she's more settled. She and Katniss actually have a lot in common. They write to each other, I know. Johanna, too, spends a lot of time in the woods. It comforts her, after being away for so long. All the districts are in heavy rebuilding phase, though, since so much has been destroyed from the war. All of us are on pick-up crews a few days a week. I'm glad my shift isn't today; I'd probably drop chunks of concrete on my feet in this state. Mass graves were dug in the Meadow, and most of the worst of the carnage is gone from the houses and streets now. I wish I had somewhere I could sit and actually mourn my family, but many of the bodies were unidentifiable by the time the brave new squad of Peacekeepers—some volunteers from 13 and some from our own district, all voted on upon our return—got around to clearing them out. That was purely on a volunteer basis, since so many of us had lost people we cared about, and they didn't want to cause any more catastrophic mental breakdowns. I respect those volunteers deeply. Katniss, Haymitch, and I bowed out of that one, but no one really expected or wanted us in on it, anyways…we've been party to enough death to last a lifetime.
"What's your plan today?" Haymitch asks, snapping me out of my own thoughts. I've shifted onto my good leg and am probably staring into space. I haven't figured out what I'm doing yet today…it's a very strange feeling, sometimes, since we have neither work nor school anymore to keep us preoccupied. I've been a little at loose ends.
"I'm going to…walk…then bake." I decide this on the spur of the moment. These are things that will help calm me. Maybe I'll paint later. We need more bread, anyways. Katniss will turn up with meat and plants and we can figure out some time to get to town and buy the rest at some point soon. The three of us usually just work groceries out for everyone collectively. He nods. "Where's she?" he asks. "Hunting," I say. He looks approving at this. It's better than the days she stays in bed, and I actually think she will hunt today, not just lie around the woods thinking of our pain all day. She looked sharp. Haymitch echoes this thought.
"She looked good heading out," he says, so I know he saw her go. "Better. Maybe something good will come out of this thing you two have going."
"Thanks for the optimism," I snort. "Just wanted to get the mockery over with. Can I go now?" He smirks again.
As I turn to go, he calls, "Hey, Peeta! One more thing." I turn. "Be careful."
"You already said that," I remind him. He gives me a sort-of-evil eyebrow raise and then he says, "Not like that." It takes me a minute to get the drift, but when I do, I begin to blush again. Jesus. This day is shaping up to be a doozy.
"I know," I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. He nods and turns away. I decide to just walk down to town myself and get the shopping over with now, since it's a good distance to walk. I can get some new spices for the bread if they have them. A comparative lot of good food comes through here now, and our options are more and much better. The Capitol is still working on getting it together, of course, and it will undoubtedly take a long time, but one of their main priorities in conjunction with 13 was to make sure the food that got out to us was better. Which is no small feat considering that so many of the resources to grow it and get it out were destroyed. The good news, I guess, if you can see the good news in this, is that there are far less mouths to feed now.
I head down the path towards town. Winter's almost over, I hope. I'm tired of the cold. It makes my bad leg slower and more painful. But today, that's far down my list of thoughts. Out of nowhere, I hear, ringing so clearly in my ears that she could have been standing beside me, "Peeta, please!" It takes approximately four nanoseconds for me to get hard. Oh, boy, please don't let this happen all day. I think wryly that I have to find some effective way of blocking this out or risk never leaving the house again.
When I get to town, it's good to talk to the others. We're closer now that the war's over and there are fewer of us. We have a sense of pride, collectively, that I didn't feel before. I think we feel stronger, for still being here, through it all. The merchants whose shops haven't burned down are mostly open for business again. I visit the site of the new Hob, in a barn just outside the town limits. I'm more familiar here now, since I come with Katniss when she trades sometimes. I pay with coin for what I need, lacking her talent with weaponry. I buy us some of the necessities…soap, thread, some new spices, arrange for some more firewood to be dropped off at my house—I cut it myself sometimes, but as sitting by the fire is one of the more calming things I have left, I go through an awful lot of it. At a stall selling various configurations of home remedies and herbs…a job Katniss' mother and sister were responsible for only a few years ago, I think with a pang…my eyes catch on small boxes stacked in the corner, each containing a stack of Haymitch's last warning. I wonder if I'm being premature. I dread making this particular purchase. Word gets around fast in 12 and I'm sure it would get out. Then I see who's minding the stall and I can't tell if it gets better or worse when I do…Delly. I sigh. Maybe she at least can be persuaded to keep her mouth shut out of some kind of misguided loyalty. She's usually prone to talking, but she's moved a little beyond an acquaintance since I returned from the Capitol's torture. She's almost a friend now. Resignedly, I select a box and approach the counter, because Haymitch is right. Katniss and I can't manage a pregnancy and Katniss definitely doesn't want one, maybe ever, from what she says. I carefully keep that knowledge away from my heart. Delly sees me coming and waves, "Peeta, hey! My grandmother is taking a walk and I'm babysitting. What's up?" She's cheery, as usual. She's lost weight after all that's happened; you could almost call her slim now. When she sees what I'm bearing she lifts an eyebrow and it's so funny on her, I laugh despite myself.
"Wow," she remarks. "Either you've been up to a lot since we last talked, or Katniss is coming around, or both."
"Both," I tell her, sparing the details. "Hey, can you not tell people, please? It's difficult enough with Katniss even if I'm the only one involved in the process."
"Sure," she agrees, "I don't really see what purpose that would serve, anyways. Everyone's assumed that you've been way past there already. Remember the baby?" I had forgotten all about this, but it eases my mind. "Oh, yeah," I say, relieved.
"Good on you for being careful, though!" she adds, taking my money and handing me the box back, in a brown paper bag. "Maybe she's healing, Peeta." Delly is insightful, when she's not talking. She keeps her eyes out.
"I hope so, more than anything," I tell her. "Maybe this weekend we can all meet up and do something." This is a rarity, but I like her and appreciate her collusion. I know she'd like that. She smiles. "Ok. Let me know."
I head for the dairy where I pick up milk, eggs, butter, cheese. I buy Katniss the goat cheese she likes. I wish there were fresh fruit and vegetables somewhere around here, but district 11 was one of the places that got the worst of it, and combined with the season, we're out of luck, except for whatever Katniss digs up in the woods, which is more than most people get. With everything wrapped in brown paper, I sling it in a sack over my back and head back home again. The fresh air feels good after all the heat of the previous night, I have to admit. When I let myself in at home, it's very quiet. I wonder if I should get a cat or something. Katniss complains about Buttercup a lot but I know she's grudgingly grateful for even that minor company when she's alone in the house. I flour the table and begin to mindlessly make some bread for the next few days. As I mix ingredients I hardly need to think about it, it comes so naturally after all this time. My hands move of their own accord through each step. I bake a few with garlic and cheese in them for Katniss, and work on some with cinnamon and raisins. I try to keep it interesting. Maybe she'll find salad makings and we can have an actual meal. I get flour all over me and the smell of the bread rising fills the kitchen space. It's comforting, to have just a few little things that are the same as before. This house is set up well for cooking, at least…everything in here is excessive compared to what we were used to before. The kitchen butcher block is huge and it gives me tons of space. When the oven's hot enough, I put the bread in and mark the time on the clock. While it bakes, I think maybe I'll shower, looking down at my flour-covered self. The shower's another thing I'm not complaining about. Luxury, again. I head upstairs. I have no idea if or when Katniss will come by. Maybe she's freaking out over last night and she'll avoid me. I hope not. Not only because my mouth is watering for fresh meat.
When I shed my clothes and step into the waiting heat of the water, it prickles my neck and back and feels heavenly. This is no Capitol shower; it can't do the fancy things the ones in the training center could, but I wouldn't care if it did. As the hot water pours over me and the bathroom fills with steam, I let myself think about Katniss. About her luminous body, naked, lying back and reaching up for me, like I'd imagined so many times. About her mischievous grin as she kissed my neck and worked her tiny, strong hand on my prick. I groan thinking of that orgasm. I tried to keep my eyes open to watch her finish me, but in the end, I couldn't. I think of her waiting heat, the smoldering wetness that wrapped so tightly around my fingers, clenching on. Of course, my hand has moved to stroke my cock by now. Maybe it's better this way. If she so much as kisses me hello I'm going to go off otherwise. I go slowly, savoring the water and the thoughts: Katniss' tongue slipping into my mouth boldly, reaching down to find her already touching herself while I slept, what her mouth would feel like where her hands had been. I play back her sounds in a reel, her smiles as she encouraged me. "Peeta, please!" God, she was so hot inside. I bite my lip thinking about it. I wonder if she'll want me again tonight. I wonder what she's thinking about out there in the woods. It doesn't take very long for me to come. "Mmmm," I groan as my cock throbs and sputters out hot fluid into the water again. It's convenient. This way I'm already clean. But I stand in the water for awhile. The bread won't be done yet. When I hear the door open with a snick sound, though, I jump and grab for a towel. Jesus, does no one in this town knock? It occurs to me that I wouldn't have heard it anyways, but when the voice pipes up I realize it doesn't belong to someone who either would knock or would have to. It's Katniss.
"Peeta?" she queries, as though it could be anyone else in my house, in my shower.
I stick my head out. "Katniss," I greet her, and smile, "How's the woods?" She's flushed and has a leaf caught in her hair. For some reason it makes me happy when I notice it's braided again, though the braid is short. It makes her look more like herself. She doesn't look like she's pulling away from me, like she's regretting anything, I think, in a quick scan, though it's hard to tell for sure. I'm glad she didn't catch me in the act of wearing away these tensions.
"I took your bread out on the way up. Looked about done. It smells really good," she tells me. "Oh, thanks," I say, ducking my head back inside, "I'm almost done." She doesn't answer. "Did you get good game today?" I ask her. But then my thoughts about dinner slip from my head because I hear the soft flump of fabric, the clatter of the bow she can bring home now, since everyone in the entire country knows she's been hunting outside the district boundaries for ages and no one is going to tell Katniss Everdeen not to hunt, now. She's protective of her weapons and I know it's very satisfying for her to take them home. I hear silence for a second, and then, Katniss Everdeen's smooth leg moves into view as she steps into the hot water with me.
I blink. I can't manage to find words. She turns around and presses her back to my chest as though it is the most natural thing in the world. I wrap my arms around her and she tilts her head back under the water. She sighs, "That feels good," and I don't know if she means the water or me. Maybe both. I lean in and kiss the soft spot where her neck joins her shoulder. We rock slowly back and forth in the water. I pick the leaf out of her hair and reach for the soap and begin to lather, without her asking. I move slowly, deliberately, and somehow it's even more sensual than what happened last night. She doesn't protest. It occurs to me that maybe Katniss is tired of fighting all the time. Tired of protest and friction. Maybe she's finally figured out that she's not going to get it from my end. I rub her scalp as I wash her, tilt her back gently to rinse the soap out. She stands very still in that hunter way of hers, but her body is relaxed. The grime from the woods washes down the drain. I lather my hands and chastely wash her shoulders, her back. I think for a lightning second and then take my first risk without asking her at least twice beforehand. I brace myself fully to apologize when she pushes me away, and my soapy hands move down to her hips. I cup her ass in my palms, enthralled with every new bit of her I get to admire and touch. She leans her head back against my shoulder and closes her eyes, which I take for acquiescence. I don't linger, though. My point isn't to come on to her. I kiss the top of her head and she shifts so I can kneel. I soap her thighs, her calves, so strong from years of running around in the woods, then running for her life. When I get to her ankles, she turns. I look up and catch her eyes and there's an odd expression in them, something like wonder. Something like how I felt last night when she first kissed back, or pulled her tunic over her head to lay with me. There's surprise in it, too, but not anger. I begin to work my way back up, a little shyly. I move a gentle hand to soap the curly down between her legs, but I linger least of all there. There will be no end to my erections if I begin to concentrate on my other wants. And this is about her, not me. She sighs softly anyways, though, when she feels my light touch. I move up to her belly, her breasts, pausing just long enough to rub my thumbs over the taut nipples that stand at attention in the heat and steam. Then my hands move up and cup her face as I kiss her. She steps forward to let the soap wash off, and then keeps moving. Her hands hold me steady behind my back so I don't lose my balance with my leg, and she backs me up into the wall before moving her hands slowly up into my hair. She winds them in and kisses me, tenderly. It lacks the heat of last night but there's something new there. So many new things coming from Katniss new…new actions, new looks, new emotions. I hold onto her as though we're the only two people in the world.